


Las Vegas Natural Disasters

by IprotectKennyP (dauntperplexity)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, I believe in Kent "Greets-You-With-Fingerguns" Parson, Ice Cream, Kent Parson is a disaster in the off season, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 02:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauntperplexity/pseuds/IprotectKennyP
Summary: Since Kent was still hashtag superbummed about getting knocked out of the playoffs by the friggen Schooners, he had convinced himself that it was a good idea to order Snickers ice cream from Amazon for the second day in a row.He opened the door to find tall, dark-skinned, and even more handsome than the day before standing on the other side.





	Las Vegas Natural Disasters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JeanieNitro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanieNitro/gifts).



> I had a really, really fun time writing this fic. I tried to make it hit a lot of points on your prompt list. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea how Amazon Prime Now really works. Please don't hold it against me if I get anything wrong about the process.

**Drought**

After hanging up his phone, it took Kent a lot longer than he would ever admit deciding if he should put a shirt on or not. He decided against the shirt. But he was thoughtful enough to put on basketball shorts so he wasn't answering the door in only boxers. And a hat.

He opened his front door and sucked in a breath. "Oh no," he said softly. "You're hot."

The tall, dark-haired, and handsome man lifted up the bag he was holding. "It's Vegas in the summer. You'd be hot too if you weren't in this huge ass mansion. Probably blasting the AC." He shook the cooler bag prompting the man in front of him to take it. "For Kent? Your ice cream."

Kent bit his lip to keep himself from correcting him about his hot comment because that definitely was not what he was talking about. "Thanks," he said, taking the bag. He opened it and pulled out the box of Snickers Ice Cream. "Do you keep the bag?"

The guy shook his head. "That's for you to do whatever you want."

"Awesome," Kent said, setting the bag on the ground and opening up the box. "Am I supposed to tip you?" He pulled out a bar and held it out to his delivery man.

"You kinda already did when you ordered," he said. "Some do, but you don't have to."

Kent pushed the bar against the man's hard chest. "Don't leave. I'll be right back," he said, pulling his hand away once the man grabbed it. He turned to walk back into his house. "Kit! Where the hell did you put my wallet?"

Kent walked back into his house, disappeared down a hallway to the left, yelled something that definitely didn’t make sense at Kit. A few minutes later, returned with his wallet.

He was actually surprised to see the man still standing there.

Why his delivery guy didn't just leave, he had no idea.

Kent still held onto his box of ice cream. He opened up his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. "Thanks," he said.

The man stared at the money like he'd never seen anything like it before. "That's way too much."

"You brought me ice cream," Kent said, waving the bill in front of his face.

"That you paid for."

"Because of your service, I didn't have to put a shirt on today," Kent said. He pushed the bill against the man's chest.

The man put the hand holding the ice cream bar on Kent's. "Thank you?" he said. "But, you should put a shirt on. Your house feels like an icebox."

"An icebox?” Kent said with a laugh. “What are you, from the 1850s?"

"I honestly have no idea why I didn't just say freezer." He pulled his hand away. He held onto the ice cream along with the hundred dollar bill. "You sure about this?"

"Go eat your ice cream before it melts," Kent replied.

"I was talking about..." the delivery man shook his head. "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"No, thank you," Kent said. He reached into his box of ice cream, pulled out a bar, and tore it open with his teeth. He shoved half of it into his mouth and started chewing.

The man watched as Kent's face contorted like he was in pain. "You okay, man?"

Kent shook his head. "Brain freeze," he said. "And fillings. That wasn't smart." He swallowed down the ice cream and smiled. "Well, thank you again, ice cream man."

“Technically not my title. But no problem," he replied. He turned to walk down the driveway to his car. "By the way," he said without turning back. "Your shorts are on backward."

Kent looked down and didn't notice anything. It wasn't until he turned his body around as much as he could that he saw his drawstrings on his butt. "Huh," he said. He watched the handsome delivery man get into his car and drive away.

He shrugged and shoved the rest of the bar into his mouth, wincing he chewed. He shut his front door once he saw the man drive away.

He opened his second bar before heading down the hallway.

**Floods**

Since Kent was still hashtag superbummed about getting knocked out of the playoffs by the friggen Schooners, he convinced himself that it was a good idea to order Snickers ice cream from Amazon for the second day in a row. While he was still telling his boys that he needed some time to himself to get over the loss, he still needed to have a few meaningful conversations a day. So, he facetimed his mom, he talked to his cat, and then he'd thank his delivery guy for bringing him sustenance.

When he answered the door, he made sure that the little drawstrings on his shorts were dangling in front of him instead of behind. He also made sure he had his wallet in his hand.

He opened the door to find tall, dark-skinned, and even more handsome than the day before standing on the other side.

"Ice cream again?" he asked, holding out the bag.

"I ran out."

"Maybe you shouldn't have given me one?"

"I still would've had to order more. I ate all five in a sitting. Six would've been too much. And then that would've left just one for today."

"You seriously ate the box in a sitting?"

"Well, I was standing for two of them," Kent said. He opened up the box and pulled out a bar, handing it to the guy. He also opened his wallet and pulled out another hundred.

"Seriously, you gotta stop."

"What?" Kent said. "I don't know if Amazon is paying you enough. Even if this is just a side job."

"Well, it's one of the few I get paid at."

"Few." It always made Kent pause whenever he heard about people in Vegas needing to work multiple jobs. "Well, what else are you?"

"I'm wondering why the hell you have so many hundreds in your wallet," he said as he opened his bar. He took a bite out of it. He swallowed it and looked at him. "Not my favorite."

"What is your favorite?"

"Twix. Those ones are amazing. But I don't think Amazon has them. Walmart and Smith's do, though."

"Well, the next time I'm able to travel out into the world, I'll check it out."

The guy looked down at their feet. "Oh, thank God," he said softly before looking Kent in the eyes again.

"Everything okay?"

The man looked up at Kent, his eyes wide. "I just was wondering if you were on house arrest," he said. "And that's why you never left your house."

"Hell no. This," he said, gesturing to himself, "is a choice."

"Obviously," the delivery man said. "Trying to make House Arrest Chic happen."

Kent furrowed his brow and stared at him. A small smile broke across his face. "Are... are you a hockey player? Because that was pretty good."

The man shook his head. "No. Not a hockey player. Are you? Or like another kind of athlete? Or an actor? Or popstar? Or a former popstar? I don’t know. You have a big house."

Kent blinked twice, then just stared at the other man. "S-seriously?" He felt his eyes begin to water. Did this guy really not know who he was? There was something so charming about that.

"Oh shit," the man said. "I... said something wrong." He quickly shoved the rest of the bar into his mouth, then shoved the wrapper and the money into his pocket. He pointed to his mouth. "Now I can't say anything stupid," he tried to say though his mouth was full.

Kent just stared. And he kept staring. He reached into his box and pulled another bar out. "Do you want another one?"

The man shook his head. He swallowed and winced, realizing that there were a few peanuts that were going down whole. "Nope. I'm good. I can’t eat and drive." He looked at his wrist to check the time on a watch that didn't exist. "Well," he said. "I... have to go.”

Kent raised his eyebrow. "Sure thing," he said. He held up the box and shook it. "Thanks for the ice cream."

"Again," he said, taking a step back. "You're the one who bought it."

"Again," Kent countered. "I'm still not wearing a shirt."

The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We get it. You have abs." He turned to walk back down the driveway. It actually was getting late. He spun around before he got to his car. "Hey, quick question?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how shorts work?"

"What?" Kent looked down and saw that while his shorts were on the right way, they were inside out. "Oh, come the fuck on," he said with a huff. He slid his thumbs into his waistband, ready to remedy it immediately. But he stopped himself when he realized he was still standing at his front door and his delivery man was staring at him.

"Also, please, for your abs, if nothing else. Eat something more than ice cream."

"What are you, a doctor?"

The man shrugged. "Trying to be."

"What?" Because how often was that actually a response that someone said to that?

"I'll see you the next time you decide to order ice cream at 10 o'clock at night."

Kent wanted to laugh and tell him that this was the last time, but it definitely wasn't. There was a very high chance that he'd be ordering ice cream again within the next two or three days.

He opened the bar he was holding and took a bite out of it before turning back into his house and closing his door with his foot.

**Heat Waves**

As predicted, because Kent was often the most predictable person in the world, he ordered ice cream the following night. He had ordered it a little earlier than he had the first two nights, so he wasn't exactly expecting the same delivery guy to be the one to bring him his grocery.

He was hoping, but not expecting.

When he opened the door at 9:55 at night, much later than he had expected the ice cream to arrive, he was actually surprised to see the same guy standing on the other side.

The man immediately looked down. "You put your shorts on the right way," he said, before looking back up to meet Kent's gaze. He then held out the bag.

"I know you're supposed to be sounding extremely proud of me," he said. He took the bag from him. "But, it just sounds really, really sad. Like I'm a sad adult who doesn't know how to put shorts on."

The man shrugged. "Sports shorts are tricky. There's no zipper to tell you where your peen needs to be."

"Peen?"

"All the other ones sound so harsh. I feel weird saying them to someone I don't know."

"Says the guy who's chosen to deliver to me three nights in a row. You seriously don't have anything better to do?"

"I'm on summer vacation. So, now it's work time. And being a volunteer firefighter only distracts me so much."

"A volunteer what now?"

"Name's Danny, by the way," he continued as if he were having a conversation that Kent wasn't really a part of.

"Danny?" Kent said.

_Kenny and Danny._

Now, why did he think that?

"No. Not Danny. Why the hell did I say that?"

"Not Danny," Kent repeated. Because why would Danny say that if his name wasn't Danny.

"My name. Real name. Is Weyland Daniel."

For some reason, that name was much more endearing. So much more endearing. "Are you sure?" Kent asked.

The man took off his hat, brushed his fingers through his hair, then put the hat back on with such ease that Kent figured the guy had to do it hundreds of times a day. "Most day, I don't know anymore," he said with a laugh. "But I'll respond to Weyland. Daniel. Wey. Danny. Delivery guy. A bunch of other names."

If Kent wasn't endeared by the guy before, he definitely was now.

"Well, nice to meet you, Weyland Daniel."

He opened up the Snickers box and handed one to Weyland. He also pulled his wallet out of his shorts, that were put on correctly, and handed him a fifty. He opened up a bar and took a bite. He chewed a few times, swallowed, then smiled.

"So, since you know about my summer plans, what are yours?"

Kent gestured to himself. "This is pretty much it. Eat things. Sleep. Swim and work on my tan. Then get back at it."

"It."

Kent blinked twice and stared at the man again. "You... you really don't know who I am, do you?"

Weyland laughed. "Dude, I don't know if you realize this, but sometimes I don't even know who I am. But, I guess you're a hockey player. And you're in the offseason, which is weird because from what I've absorbed, the playoffs are still going?"

"Thanks for bringing that up," Kent said softly. He shoved the rest of the bar into his mouth. He was grieving. This was supposed to be a good year for them. They weren't supposed to get knocked out in the first round of the playoffs. Granted, they were in a wildcard spot, so they were the underdog, but Kent felt like they were supposed to do it this year.

And he was wrong.

He sighed, reaching into the box and pulling out another bar.

"My bad, man," Weyland said. "Didn't mean to bring up some sad things."

Kent shrugged. "Well, what can you do? I just gotta... there's always next season."

"Still. You're sad, right now. And I'm sorry if it's because of something I said."

Kent shook his head. "Naw," he said softly. "I just... take it especially hard, you know? Being captain and everything." Ever since they gave him the C, he would take playoff losses especially hard. Everything fell to him, whether he wanted it to or not.

"Well," Weyland said. "Last I checked, hockey was a team sport."

"Yeah?" Kent asked, leaning against the door jamb. He tore open his second bar with his teeth. "And when was the last time you checked?"

"Last night," Weyland said without hesitation. "When I was trying to google you." His eyes went wide when he realized just what he'd said. He blushed.

Kent bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Oh yeah?" he said. "You remembered my name to look me up?"

"No, I didn't," Weyland said. "So, I used my research skills and I just tried to google crying underwear model with hockey butt eating ice cream."

That definitely made Kent laugh. "What... what kind of results did that turn up?" he asked.

"Porn," Weyland said with wide eyes. "A lot of porn. Which was obviously created for a certain group of people." He shook his head as if he was trying to shake the memory from his thoughts. "I got distracted."

"You could've just looked at your... delivery thing. It had my name. You said it the first night."

"I... could have totally done that," Weyland said. "But, I feel like that would've been too invasive and stalker-y, you know?"

Kent nodded slowly, not really thinking about that. He was glad that someone had actually thought about that. "Well, did you actually find out anything about me?"

Weyland shook his head. "Not really. Like I said. Distracted."

Kent dropped the open ice cream bar back into his box. "Well," he said. He held his hand out to him. "Kent Parson. If you wanna look me up without running into some porn."

Weyland reached out and shook Kent's hand. "Well, where's the fun in that?" he said with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Kent Parson," he said. "Well, officially, I guess." He pulled his hand away and smiled. "Now, I'm gonna go before that ice cream melts. Summer is coming."

"Yeah," Kent said softly. "Drive safe. Don't let your ice cream melt either."

Weyland used his ice cream bar to give Kent a salute before heading down the driveway and into his car. He got in and quickly ate the bar before driving away.

Kent raised his eyebrow, just watching the man as he ate his second bar. He felt like he'd probably eat maybe one more then be done for the night. As good as the bars were, he needed to eat more than ice cream.

He headed toward the kitchen to put the rest of the bars in the freezer.

He pulled out his phone and contemplated looking up his delivery guy. Because that wasn't invasive or stalkerish.

Eventually, he'd have to thank Kit for climbing into his lap long enough for him to put down his phone.

He didn't think about Weyland the rest of the night.

**Thunderstorms**

Kent did think of Weyland the next day when he was standing in the ice cream aisle at his local Sprouts. He was trying to convince himself to buy something since he was there, but between the gelato and the fruit bars and the weird coconut milk bars, nothing seemed right.

Especially after what he had been eating the last three days.

He paid for his groceries, took a few pictures with some fans, then headed back to the comfort of his own home.

As he put his groceries away, he opened up his freezer and pulled out one of the Snickers bars he had left. It could've been enough that he didn't have to order delivery. It should have been.

Kent still had to decide if he would.

So, for most of the day, he sat on the couch, marathoned one of the CW shows that had just come onto Netflix, and ate his lunch, and snacked until dinner time.

At 7:45, he had to make a decision on whether or not he wanted to order ice cream from Weyland. Well, from Amazon. He still had three bars waiting for him in the freezer, and that seemed like it'd be more than enough for the night.

But, he felt like since he had thought about Weyland, he had to see him. Just to scratch the itch, as it were.

He placed an order for the bars right before the cut off time. 

When the knock on his door came a little after 9:15, Kent jumped. It was a little earlier than when Weyland had been coming. Maybe it was a different driver today.

The thought disappointed Kent much more than he thought it would.

When he opened the door, he saw Weyland standing on the other side breathing as hard as if he'd just run a marathon, and couldn't help but smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, Kent Parson. Captain of the Las Vegas Aces. Here is your ice cream," he said, trying to catch his breath.

"Hello. Weyland Daniel. AmazonPrimeNow driver. Thank you?" he said. "What's with the whole out-of-breath thing. You run here?"

"No. No, I didn't. But I did run from my house to my car to the store back to my car. I... lost track of time." He shook his head like he was disappointed in someone. And the someone was himself. He held up the bag. "I was caught up in a marathon, and then when I looked at the clock, it was fifteen minutes ago."

"You still had time," Kent said, taking the bag.

"Maybe," Weyland replied. "Probably." He sighed, still trying to calm down.

"You... you wanna come inside? You look like you need a water," he said. He paused. "Unless you have more deliveries to... deliver."

Weyland shook his head. "I usually make sure that your place is the last place I go when delivering."

"You do?"

Weyland nodded. He sucked in a breath, held it, rested his hand on his head, and let it out. "Yeah," he said. "Don't ask why, because I honestly wouldn't be able to give you an answer. You order ice cream. You should go first."

Kent waved him off of his spiel. "It always arrives in perfect condition," he said. "Still. Water?" He felt much better about offering it knowing that he didn't have anywhere else to be.

"Yeah, sure," Weyland said. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and used it to wipe his face. "It's really friggen hot today, huh?"

"Summer is coming," he said with a laugh, trying to shake off the image of just how in shape Weyland’s body was. He led the way into his house and to the kitchen. He looked back and saw Weyland take off his shoes and leave it off to the side.

Weyland took his time walking down the hall, looking at everything. "This place is huge," he said softly. "Like, you know how on TV, things look really huge, but it's really not that huge. I don't know why I said that, because it's not like I've had any point of reference to your house, but holy shit."

Kent put the box of ice cream in the freezer. He reminded himself to give Weyland one on the way out. He took a bottle of water out of the fridge and handed it to him. "It is a big house. Too big for one person," he said. "But, usually there's always a teammate or two here."

"Except right now," Weyland said.

"I told the team I wanted to be alone. And cry. And eat my ice cream," he said.

"Living your best life," he said. He took the water and drank half of it down in one go. "So," he said. "Offseason. That's... bittersweet, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "Wanted a longer playoff run, but, you know. Sometimes it's not meant to be."

Weyland nodded. "Right, right. I get that. Sports and stuff."

Kent had to smile. "You. You don't watch hockey, do you?" he said.

"No. Not at all. The only sport I pay attention to is baseball."

"Ew," Kent said.

"Don't knock it," Weyland said.

"I'm not. It's just so boring."

"That’s knocking it. It's a lot better when you're actually playing it. I think," Weyland said. "Maybe I've just been saying that for so long that I actually have to believe it?"

"You played?" Kent asked. He was right in assuming the guy was an athlete.

"Yeah. In the way past tense. The last time I played I was in college," he replied. "I mean, like, played for realsies. Now, it's just softball, which I crush it in," he said. “Which isn’t really fair considering I played with like actual MLB players in my youth.” He finished the rest of his water, but held onto the bottle. "You not a fan of America's favorite past time?"

Kent shook his head. "Not my thing. It's just too slow for me."

"You’re on the ice for like a minute and then you get to rest for like three. You play a third of a game."

"Nothing happens in baseball."

"Unless something does."

"Well, yeah. That's how things usually happen," Kent said.

"It's exciting to me," Weyland said.

"To each his own."

"Yeah," Weyland said. "Baseball butts are so exciting." His eyes went wide when he realized what he said. "I... that was such an overshare."

Kent couldn't help but raise his eyebrow. So, Weyland liked butts. Baseball butts. "I mean, kinda. But, I have to tell you that you've been missing out on a whole subset of butts. Have you never seen a hockey butt?" he asked.

"No. You guys are hiding your natural padding with more pads. How am I supposed to check hockey butts out like that? And those hockey pants are not flattering."

"They aren't supposed to be."

"Then how am I supposed to check out your butt?" Weyland said with a frown. But then he shrugged. "Obviously by wearing your basketball shorts incorrectly,” he said softly to himself.

Kent felt his cheeks warm up. So, Weyland had seen his butt. Kent was proud of that. He smiled and shook his head. "Well, I do have a nice one," he replied.

"It's decent," Weyland said. He looked at his phone and sighed. "Okay. Thanks for the water, but I should probably head out."

"You have a marathon to get back to?" he asked. He went to the freezer and pulled out a bar. He then set it down in front of him. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out another fifty. He set it down next to the ice cream.

"Yeah. I gotta find out what's going on with Jane and Raf."

Kent raised his eyebrow. Every new thing he was learning about Weyland was just so damn charming. "Well, I don't want to keep you." Which was a lie. Kent enjoyed the few conversations that they had had together.

Weyland took both and slid them into his shirt pocket. "Thanks," he said. "And, try to give baseball a chance. It's pretty much the only sport you can watch right now anyway."

Kent had to laugh. If Kris and Bryce couldn't convince him to watch baseball, he wasn't sure that Weyland could. "I'll see. I have my shows to catch up on too."

"That's better than I thought I'd get," he said as he headed toward the front door. "See you next time you wanna order some ice cream."

"Enjoy the rest of your marathon," Kent replied, walking him out. He watched as Weyland got into his car and left. Then, he headed back inside.

He contemplated getting himself an ice cream, but he decided against it for now. He grabbed a water and plopped himself on the couch. Instead of turning on Netflix, he went to ESPN. He sat back and watched as baseball highlights came on.

He was right. Still as boring as ever. But he didn't change the channel, no matter how badly he wanted to.

**Earthquakes**

Kent still had 8 ice cream bars in his freezer when he clicked the button to order another box. As he sat and waited for the order to come, his thoughts made him doubt things. A lot of things.

_Do you really need to order ice cream again? You didn't even touch the box last night._

_You know, Kent, it'd be easier to just ask the guy out._

_And stop tipping him so much._

_But he is a grad student, maybe he's broke? Besides, I have more than enough money._

_He might think you're a_ friggen _weirdo._

_Real talk, Goldie, just ask him out._

_It is so cute that you call yourself Goldie._

_Shut up._

He pushed those thoughts away quickly. The guy had seen him with shorts put on incorrectly. Twice. There wasn't much else he could do to make the guy be not judgy about him.

At about nine o'clock, there was a knock on his door. He went to open it, thinking it was Weyland. His eyes went wide when he saw who it was. "Oh," he said. "The Troys. Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Well, you've gone dark, so we just wanted to make sure you are still you."

"Still me?" Kent asked. “I’m still me.”

"The loss was hard for everyone, Cap," Jeff said. "It wasn't just on you. We just couldn't put a full game together. We got it next year." He reached up and put a hand on Kent's shoulder. He gave it a squeeze. "Can we hang?"

"We brought Cane's. And beers," Jonathan said, holding up a bag and a box.

Kent laughed, stepping out of the way to let the guys in. "Yeah, you know I can't turn down a box of Cane's."

"Okay," Jeff said. "Would it be cool if I invited the guys over?"

Kent smiled. "Yeah. Fine,” he said. He knew he’d hurt some of his guys’ feelings if they found out that there wasn’t an invite to his place but the Troys had come to hang out. “But tell them no hards."

Jeff fist pumped before pulling out his phone and texting the guys. He then plopped on Kent's couch next to Kit. "What the hell are you watching?"

"Jane the Virgin," Kent said. "I needed something to marathon. It's pretty good."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "We're watching something else."

Kent rolled his eyes back. "You're lucky you brought me food. I'd fight you more if you showed up empty-handed." He grabbed the controller and tossed it to him.

One by one, people started showing up at Kent's place.

At 9:45, when his doorbell rang, he was sure it was just another teammate that had arrived. He sent Scrappy to answer it since he was busy getting charcoal for his grill.

He was coming back into the house from the backyard when he heard Scrappy yelling.

"Kent! There's a stranger here. I think he's trying to crash the party."

Kent furrowed his brow and walked down the hallway, trying to look around Scrappy. His eyes went wide when he saw who it was. "Shit. I totally forgot. Scrappy, let him in."

Scrappy stepped out of the way. "You can pass."

Kent rolled his eyes and stopped right in his tracks when he saw Weyland stop in his kitchen. He was wearing glasses. And his hair was a gorgeous, gorgeous mess. "H-hey," he said.

"Hi," Weyland said. He held up the bag. "You definitely didn't order enough ice cream."

"I totally forgot about ordering this,” Kent said, embarrassed and blushing. “And the guys being here was unplanned." He felt like what he had done was just so inconsiderate.

Weyland shrugged. "It's cool. I'm glad you're talking to people. You're looking a lot better than you were like... five days ago," he said.

"Five days ago?" Jeff said, walking over. "You saw Kent five days ago? He wouldn't even let us in the same neighborhood because he was grieving."

"He was delivering my ice cream," he said, taking the bag from Weyland. He pulled the ice cream out of the box and shoved it into the freezer fast enough that no one could see that he still had a full box in there. "Weyland Daniel, these are the guys. Guys, behave."

The guys waved and greeted the delivery man.

"Hi," Weyland said with one wave of his hand. "I feel like I'm supposed to be starstruck, but I have no idea who you guys are."

The guys stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wait, seriously," Scrappy asked.

"He's a baseball fan," Kent replied.

Jeff looked at Kent, squinting as if he were trying to read his face. "How do you know that?"

"It's always good to know your deliverer," Kent said.

"Uh huh," Jeff said slowly, suspicious. It lasted about a minute before he shook his head. "Well, since you're here. If you wanna hang out, we have beer, we're grilling things, there'll be music playing, there's a pool in the back."

Weyland looked over at Kent. "This is weird, right? You... you don't want your delivery guy here when you're' hanging out with your friends."

In all honesty, Kent would've rather had a quiet night with Weyland than had the guys over. But, he couldn't do anything about it now. "It's not weird," he said. "You don't have to drink or talk to the guys, but it'd be cool if you just hung out. I promise we won't do anything crazy." He looked over at Weyland, hoping he'd take him up on the offer. "But, no pressure. If you have somewhere to be, or if you have an early day tomorrow, don't feel like you have to stay just because we asked."

Weyland shook his head. "I think I can hang out for a little bit," he said. "If the school year was still happening, I'd tell you that I have labs or have to study for a class. But I can only look at eyes for so long, you know? I'll stay for like, fifteen minutes? Is that appropriate?"

"Well, I'm not gonna kick you out when your fifteen minutes are over," Kent said. He threw his arm over Weyland's shoulders and led him to the back. He introduced him to the guys there, then lead him to his porch swing in the yard.

He sat down and patted the seat next to him. Weyland took a seat on the other side, giving just enough room for someone to squeeze through if they wanted.

Weyland looked out at the guys slowly making their way to the back. "This isn't your entire team, is it?"

Kent shook his head. "No, but it's most of them. A few guys decided to head home so they could spend time with their families. Or go fishing. Or golfing."

"That's cool," Weyland said. "So, you stay out here most of the time?"

"Most," Kent replied. "But, I do go home for a few weeks in August. I go visit my mom in New York. I use it as an excuse to escape the worst Vegas weeks."

"I know, right? I've been here most of my life and I still can't handle it," Weyland said. He looked over at Kent and smiled. "I still love this place, though. It's home.”

"I get that," Kent said softly. "This... this is my city nine months out of the year. It's home. Well, my second home."

"It's definitely okay to have more than one home," Weyland replied. He looked up when he saw a huge hockey player standing in front of him holding a bottle of water and a bottle of beer. He reached up and took the water. "Thanks," he said.

"Is that a knitting needle in your ear?" Jeff asked, tapping his own.

Weyland put the bottle between his legs and reached up with both hands to cup his ears. His eyes went wide when he felt the mettle above his right ear. He blushed and grabbed it. "Crochet hook, actually," he said. "I was in a weird Youtube binge and then I saw this guy crocheting and I was like... I'm gonna make my nephew a blanket. So then I went to Michaels and bought a bunch of yarn and some hooks. And then I had like eight videos queued up. But then I was staring so hard and for so long that my contact fell out so I had to put on my glasses. And then I could finally see again and saw the time so I just kinda abandoned my project before heading out."

Kent had to laugh. It wasn't hard for him to imagine Weyland sitting in front of a TV or computer trying to follow a tutorial on youtube. "And how did it go?"

"I mean, I wasn't expecting it to go well, at all," Weyland said. "I'm making a dish towel, right now. That's my goal, for the immediate future. And not to toot my own horn, but it's not terrible."

"This is you not tooting your own horn?" Kent asked with a laugh.

"I've learned to always be honest with myself. Even if it makes myself look like an idiot," Weyland said.

Jeff looked at Kent and smiled. "I like this guy," he said. "You definitely need to come around the next time we have something."

"Kent can order something and I'll make sure to deliver it," he said.

"Or, you could just give me your number, and I'll text you," Jeff said.

Weyland looked at Kent and shrugged. "Is that weird?"

"I've had weirder things happen to me. It's up to you. If you want Swoops to have your number, I'm just gonna say, get ready for some memes to come your way."

"Would you really do that?" Weyland asked.

"You made Kent smile when he was super bummed about losing. Yeah, I'm definitely sending you memes."

"It could've just been the ice cream. Ice cream makes everyone smile," Weyland said.

Kent leaned over and gently bumped Weyland's arm. "This is something you can definitely toot your own horn at. You got me out of my funk." Kent looked at Jeff and saw his teammate smirking at him with his eyebrow raised.

He wanted to flip him off, but he stopped himself. He was going to be a gentleman.

"Yeah, okay," Weyland said, blushing. He sipped his water until the bottle was empty. Then he stood up. "I should head out, though. Before the rest of your teammates get here and my car is blocked in."

Kent wouldn't have minded that at all. But he'd never say that. Especially with Jeff standing over the both of him with his judgy eyes. He stood up too.

"Parser, I got this," Jeff said. "You be a good host."

"You're the one that invited everyone here," Kent countered.

"Your house."

"I can actually see the front door, you guys," Weyland said. "I can make it there on my own."

"That would be rude," Kent and Jeff said at the same time.

"Parser. Go make sure that Jonny isn't burning the burgers."

"Swoops."

"I'll behave," he said with a wink. Jeff then threw his arm over Weyland's shoulders and escorted him across the yard, into the house, and to the front door.

Kent kept his eyes on both of them the entire time. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jeff, but, for something like this, he didn't trust Jeff.

It was only when Jeff shut the front door after Weyland stepped out that Kent realized that he didn't give him his ice cream, or his tip.

**Ice Storms**

The next day, when Kent had ordered from Amazon again, he already had three fifties already out for Weyland. If it was Weyland. Because there was a high enough chance that Weyland would not want to deliver to him because of how the night went last night.

Kent didn't think that the party went badly. But he did feel bad that Weyland was ambushed by his friends and teammates that way.

He sat on his couch, leg bouncing as he waited for his doorbell to ring. He was anxious. He really, really wanted to apologize to him.

When the doorbell rang at 9:42, Kent rushed to the door after shoving the bills into his pocket. Before opening it, he took a moment to compose himself.

What if it wasn't Weyland?

What if Weyland was mad?

What if he was still wearing his glasses?

He opened the door and did his best to look composed as he let out a sigh of relief. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," Weyland said with his usual smile. "Ice cream."

"Ice cream," Kent said, taking the bag as Weyland handed it to him. "Hey," he said softly. "About last night."

"What about it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For forgetting I ordered ice cream. You probably felt ambushed yesterday seeing my team."

"It was just a change of pace," he said. "I figured the whole hermit, house arrest-y vibe from you was only temporary."

"It... it isn't usually me. Hasn't been for a while. I just needed a few days to be sad, you know?" Kent said. He reached into the box and opened it. He pulled out two bars and held them out to Weyland. "For today. And yesterday."

"You don't have to do that," Weyland said, taking just one bar. "You already tip me a crazy amount for a four dollar box of ice cream."

"You can't really say that when I didn't tip you yesterday." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fifties. He put them into Weyland's shirt pocket before he could see just how much money it was.

"You were busy."

"Still," Kent said softly. He didn't want last night to leave a bad impression. “And I don’t even know what the hell Swoops said to you. He wouldn’t tell me when he got back.”

“He was just being your best friend.” Weyland reached up and put a hand on Kent's shoulder. He gave it a squeeze. "It's okay," he said. "Look. If you're afraid that was gonna make me like you less, it didn't."

Kent's eyes went wide. "You... you like me?"

It was Weyland's turn for his eyes to go wide. "I..." he said softly. "Uh... well, when. When I said like. I meant..." He pulled his hand away from Kent's shoulder and looked at it as if it was going to tell him just how he was supposed to finish that sentence.

"What did you mean?" Kent asked. Like could've meant a lot of things. A lot of things. A few of those things were giving him a lot of hope. What the hope was for, he wasn't sure.

"I..." Weyland shoved his hand that was just touching Kent into his pocket. "I don't know," he said. "But I should head out. It's late. I..." He turned around and quickly headed down the driveway. He got into his car without looking back, then sped away.

Kent was left in the doorway, just watching it all happen.

He had done something wrong. He shouldn't have pushed. If Weyland did like him, he probably didn't anymore.

He clenched his fist, smashing his bar of ice cream in the process. He sighed, turned around, and walked into the house.

He shoved the box, along with the crushed bar into the freezer. Whatever appetite he had for ice cream was gone.

But did he have one to begin with? Or was he just ordering ice cream at this point for the company? And more specifically, for Weyland?

Well, whatever reason it was now, he screwed it up.

He sighed as he plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. It was going to be a quiet night, now. He turned on Netflix and continued his marathon of Jane the Virgin that had been on pause since the night before.

He smiled as Kit walked over, jumped up, then settled into his lap. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his fur. "I think I messed up, Kit," he said softly as the recap of the show played in the background.

For some reason, being rejected by his delivery man hurt way more than he expected it to.

He realized that he really did enjoy the short conversations that he had been having with Weyland. But, maybe that's all that could sustain between them.

He was about to settle in for the episode when his phone beeped.

_**Jeff:** Hey. Bro. If we do something, would it be cool if I asked Weyland to show up?_

_**Kent:** Why would you wanna do that?_

_**Jeff:** He was cool. Besides, we need more friends that aren't hockey people._

_**Kent:** We have friends that aren't hockey people, Swoops._

_**Jeff:** But homeboy is a doctor._

_**Kent:** He's gonna be a doctor. And don't call him homeboy._

_**Jeff:** Okay, okay, sorry. But, can we?_

_**Kent:** I don't have a claim on him, Swoops. You can do whatever you want._

_**Jeff:** You're right._   
_But this is also me asking if you wanna do something tonight._

_**Kent:** Like what?_

_**Jeff:** Not sure yet.   
I'll keep you posted._

_**Kent:** Maybe. Keep me posted._

_**Jeff:** Jinx, you owe me a handle._

_Kent rolled his eyes and set his phone on his coffee table. If Jeff was still trying to figure out something to do tonight, it'd take a few hours to put together. By then, Kent would be settled on the couch and not willing to move._

Still, he kept an eye on his phone, just in case whatever Jeff had planned for the night was enticing enough. Especially if Weyland, for some reason, had agreed to come along.

By midnight, there was still no text. And he was sure that the guys weren’t going to show up at his place unannounced.

By one o'clock that night, Kent was already upstairs in his room, in his pajamas, with Jane the Virgin playing on his TV.

He fell asleep an hour later, thinking about Weyland.

**Hailstorms**

It took Kent a lot longer to find it than he would ever admit to another human being. Since it took so long, he almost gave himself a pat on his back when he finally found it.

He walked to the Smith's self check out and paid for the six boxes of ice cream before he headed back to his place.

Jeff and the guys had agreed to meet up and do something small at Jeff's place at around 11, so until then, Kent decided that it was best for him to finish season 3 of Jane the Virgin.

He was deeply entranced by the finale when he heard a knock on the door, making him jump. He frowned, immediately checking his phone to see if he missed a call or a text from one of his teammates.

There was nothing.

Then he checked the time.

9:52 PM.

He frowned, trying to figure out who it could be at his front door. He stood up when he heard the knocks again. He checked his Amazon app to make sure that he didn't accidentally order ice cream and forget again.

He didn't. He wasn't going to. Not after the disaster that happened last night.

Then again, there was a reason he had loaded his freezer with ice cream bars.

He walked over to the front door and opened it. He paused, surprised. “Hel—”

“I made you a square!” Weyland said loudly, holding up a familiar black, cooler bag. “Wait. That’s wrong.” He brought up his other hand which was holding a small, light blue, crocheted square that was the size of his hand.

“You made me this?” Kent said, taking it when Weyland presented it to him. “Thank you.”

“Yeah. I missed a few stitches, and since I took a break, they aren’t the most consistent. And then, turning on the edge thingy to keep it straight is like… how the fuck are you supposed to do that?” Weyland shrugged. “You can throw it away if you want.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Kent said. Why would he throw away something someone made for him? He still had all of the things young fans had given him. He looked at Weyland’s other hand holding the cooler bag. "I didn't order anything. I'm pretty sure I didn't."

"You didn't," Weyland said. He reached up and adjusted his glasses before running his fingers through his hair. He sighed softly. "Did you know that your eyes change color?"

Kent blinked a few times. "I... I know my eyes are many colors?"

Weyland bit his bottom lip for a minute before finally talking. "I'd never seen that before. And like. As a human trying to be an optometrist, it was so cool to see. I mean. Your eyes were always a different color when I was here. I wrote it down. But I'd never seen it change right in front of me. And that was so cool."

"You wrote it down?"

Weyland's cheeks turned a bright red. "I... yeah. I did. I wrote it down after the second day. Because your eyes were green. And they definitely weren't green the first night."

"So, my eyes changing. That's why you left?"

"No," Weyland said quickly. "I could’ve stared into your eyes forever. I left because I was a dick." He held up the bag and shook it until Kent took it. When he did, he continued talking. "I wasn't really sure about what to do. I've never really been confronted with my feelings before."

"Feelings?"

"It's been like... a decade since I've been called out on a crush I have."

"Crush?"

"What are you, like my hype man?"

Kent had to smile. He did have a lot more questions, but he decided not to push it. He looked down and opened up the bag in his hand. He shut it and started laughing. "Oh my god," he said softly.

Weyland just stared. "Are you okay?" he asked after a few seconds.

Kent reached down and grabbed Weyland's hand. He pulled him into his house so quickly that Weyland barely had time to kick off his shoes and shut the front door. "I have to show you something.”

He stood in front of his fridge and pulled opened the freezer once he let go of Weyland's hand.

Then, Weyland started laughing. "Oh my god," he said.

Next to the uneaten bars of Snickers ice cream were the six full boxes of Twix ice cream bars he had just bought.

Kent pulled the seventh box out of the bag Weyland had given him and stuffed it into the freezer. "Yeah," he said softly, pulling out a box that had been sitting in it for a few hours.

"Have you tried one yet?" he asked.

Kent shook his head. "I don't know why. But, after last night, I didn't think it'd be cool to order ice cream because I knew I'd be hashtag superbummed if you weren't the one who was delivering it. So then, I was standing in the freezer section, just staring, and just wondering if I could somehow like use this to... I don't know, get back in your good graces?"

"My good graces?"

"You seriously ran out of here like you saw the devil standing right behind me."

"I don't know what you're supposed to do when the person you have a crush on asks you if you like them. Besides, I have no idea how you'd react to a dude liking you."

Kent blinked a few times. "Honestly, I don't know," he said. "Because I haven't really been able to like date since I've been in the league. And that was like ten years ago. Because, you know, liking dudes." He let out a laugh. "If a guy told me he liked me, like sincerely, I'd probably run away too."

"That's what I'm saying!" Weyland said. “I mean, I did do that too. Not my most graceful moment.”

Kent opened the box of Twix ice cream and handed one to Weyland before taking one out for himself. "So, you do like me."

"What I know about you, I like. And you seem to just roll with whatever punches I throw at you."

"Your punches are cute," Kent said with a smile. He used his teeth to tear open a bar.

Weyland smiled. "Yeah, I'll take that," he said, opening up his own bar. "So. Um... is this gonna be weird now?"

Kent shrugged. "I don't know. We could just limit our interactions to me buying ice cream or maybe even some other groceries and you delivering them. But you have school and stuff, so I'd feel really bad about making you head this way super late," he said.

Weyland stared at his ice cream bar. "You know. You're saying things like there is gonna be a thing between us or like you wanna see me outside of this whole deliverer slash deliveree relationship."

Kent looked over at Weyland. Weyland had just laid his own feelings out. "Well, if it helps, I do like you to. At least, the things you've told me, I like." He felt himself blushing. "I've talked to you more than I've talked to my teammates in the past week. That seems important."

Weyland turned his head to look at Kent. He smiled at him. "Your eyes are changing color again," he said. "Awesome."

Kent blushed even deeper at that. "Yeah. Well, maybe you need to come around more often to study them."

Weyland tilted his ice cream bar over to Kent's so he could tap it against it. "Sounds like a plan."

Kent tapped his bar against Weyland's and smiled. "Cheers." He took a bite out of it and groaned. "Fuck," he said as the ice cream made his teeth hurt. "Cold. But, also, so much better than the Snickers one."

"That's what I'm saying," Weyland replied as he swallowed his bite. He looked over at the TV and smiled. "Oh man. This finale is insane."

Kent leaned back to look around Weyland and saw that the episode of Jane the Virgin was still on pause. "You wanna watch it with me and finish this box of ice cream?"

"Yes, I do," Weyland said. "But, I can't really stay too long. I gotta get ready. Your teammate invited me to his place for a barbecue."

Kent rolled his eyes fondly. "We can head there together if you're cool with that."

He could not believe that Jeff actually invited Weyland to hang out with them. He was going to have to kill his best friend for being such a good wingman.

After he got Weyland's number from him.


End file.
